


Aura

by Owldork1998 (redlipstickkisses)



Series: Birthday Presents [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, How Do I Tag, How the Wind and Jack became Bros, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, aka the Wind is secretly a sap, the wind gets a name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 19:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipstickkisses/pseuds/Owldork1998
Summary: Once they had a Name. Now they had so much more.





	Aura

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AcrosstheTallGreenRiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcrosstheTallGreenRiver/gifts).



> I hope you like your birthday present love, it's even on time! Nyo if you're reading this I hate me too, your present will eventually get done. Everyone go shower River with love, she deserves it.

    Once they had a name. Once, back when humans honored the earth and praised the sky, they had had as many names as the places they caressed. Now, the humans have moved on to their new gods, and even newer science. 

    No one worships the wind anymore. 

    And yet they don’t fade. 

    No one  **_Believes_ ** in them anymore, they only believe in them, taking them as an irrevocable part of the universe. And so they are caught in between, suspended in a strange halfway place. A mere wisp of their former glory, but powerful all the same. 

    They are left to linger as the young ones take over the guarding. It has been so long since they had a form that not even the eldest among them has seen it, no matter how they run through Toothiana’s feathers or support Nicholas’ sleigh. 

    They blow through the forest with a sigh. Sometimes they wonder if completely fading away might not have been kinder than this halfway existence.  

    The delighted cries of children ring out, and if they had still had a form, they would have smiled as they shifted to wrap around them gently. Two young ones were skating on the ice. Such joy and love. They swirled around them picking up loose snow and causing it to glitter in the fading light as they ruffled their hair. 

    They went to move on when the shrieks of laughter turned to cries of distress, and they halted immediately, hanging frozen in the air for a moment before turning and circling cautiously around the pond again. The older one has removed the skates and is moving towards where the young one stood. They could feel the ice cracking, and they moved to push the young one out of the way gently, stopping when they shivered and moved further onto the unstable ice. 

   The older one was saying something to the young one, and they made sure to carry the warmth and reassurance to wrap around the young one and to leave the doubt and worry to hang in the air where they could not hear it. 

   Then the older one is moving, and they are catching the young one spinning them as far away from the unsafe ice as they could, and as they reach to pull the older one back, they slip under to where they can not reach. 

    They wrap around the young one as they cry out, keeping them from running back to danger even as they themselves, howl with grief. The pond is calm, but somewhere over the ocean, a storm begins to rage.  

   They nudged the young one away even as they feel the moonlight calling to them, whispering to  _ staywatchwait _ . Sneaky young Tsar, what was he planning?

    They ran across the world as always, making sure to keep part of their attention on the clearing at all times. 

    They felt the moonlight laugh and the ice crack and pulled their attention to swirl around the child as they floated them into the air, moonlight shining down on them. The child’s eyes opened, and they felt a laugh vibrate through them, filling them with warmth. 

     They laughed back, as well they could, and flung the child high in the air and danced around them as they worked frost in delicate filigree.

    The child flew through the village, and they watched their face as they discovered they were nothing but a figment. They knew the pain well, and they hurt for the child. One moment so vibrant and full of life, the next nothing more than an icy shadow of their former self. 

    “ _ Peace Child. _ ” They whispered as the child cried and they wound ‘round them in comfort. 

    “Who was that?!”” The child startled, and they froze hanging heavy in the air. Had they heard them? So few ever had. 

    “ _ The wind, dear. _ ” If they had breath, they would have held it as the child stood there, still as a statue. 

    “My name is Jack.” The silence broke like the cracking of ice. “Do you have a name?”

    They felt something warm settle in their not-chest. Even when they had had names no one had asked, they had merely told them what they were to be called. They curled around Jack softly carrying all the  _ warmth-affection-gratitude-sorrow over things lost and never given _ .

    “ _ I have no name anymore; I am just the wind _ .” The child frowned. 

    “That's not right. You're warm and nice; you should have a name.” They ruffled through his hair in amusement because yes they were, but they were also  _ stolen body heat frozen still-raging storm-scorching heat-still air _ , he was young he would learn soon enough that they were not always kind. 

   “ _ Call me what you wish, _ ” They whispered as they embraced him and froze because something was wrong. That was not how they embraced, they blinked and then froze because how long had it been since they had blinked? They stared down at their hands in awe before glancing up at Jack. Their form was faint and indistinct and little more than a suggestion, but this one child had been enough to grant them that much. 

    “You look kind of like an Aura,” Jack said looking at them in curiosity. 

    “Aura,” they said rolling the name in their not quite mouth. They pressed a kiss to his forehead, an old blessing long forgotten. For he was beloved by them and now the winds would always come to his call. “Thank you, my Frost child. I shall wear it well.” 


End file.
